The Consulting Detective and the Musician
by DistrictsandWizards
Summary: "I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world because I made it up." "What does that mean?" Blaine asked, blinking in confusion. "It means, when the police are out of their depth- which is always, they come to me." Kurt explained, glancing out of the taxi window.


_**I do not own, or claim to own Sherlock or Glee, they belong to their respective people (Steven Moffat, Ryan Murphy, yada yada)**_

_TO BE A SET OF DRABBLES MAYBE? I may or may not have time to even work on this, so don't expect often updates if I do continue these short stories, sorry! I have to many unfinished stories as is!_

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"Noah, can I borrow your phone? Mine's out of battery power." Puck sent him an annoyed glance at the name.

"Just use the office one."

"I would if it was able to send texts." Blaine trailed into the lab after Puck, stopping to look (read openly stare in wonder) at the man that was standing on the other side of the room. He was tall, at least taller than Blaine, with beautiful blue eyes and brunette hair that was coifed finely. He cleared his throat a bit when he met his gaze and looked down, pulling out his phone.

"You can use mine?"

"Oh, thank you." He moved around the row of counters and took it gratefully, typing away.

"This is an old friend of mine, _Doctor _Blaine Anderson." Blaine sighed a bit, pulling an annoyed face. He was only a doctor because that's what his father had wanted of him.

"How many instruments do you play, Blaine?"

"I- what?" Blaine redirected his gaze from Puck; a high school friend of his, to the man Puck had just introduced him to. He handed the phone back to Blaine and smirked playfully at Puck, who muttered "_Oh, here we go_." Crossing back to where he originally stood he busied himself with looking into the microscope in front of him.

"Instruments. How many do you play?" Blaine blinked several times.

"How did you k-"

"Calluses."

"I- sorry?"

"Both of your hands have calluses on them. There's more on your right however, and below your fingernail on you ring finger. Meaning you're right handed and either draw or write; most likely write judging from the music sheets sticking out of your laptop bag." The man paused, finally lifting his eyes from the microscope to a stunned Blaine, smiling a bit.

"Am I wrong?"

"…No, actually. Wow. That was- wow. Yeah, I mostly play guitar and violin."

"Good. It's great to know good and bad things about a potential flatmate." Blaine turned to look back at Puck.

"You told him?" Puck shook his head.

"Nope. Not a word."

"It's obvious. Earlier today I told him that it would be hard to find a flat mate that could tolerate me and here he is with an old friend, clearly just arrived here from Lima, Ohio; you have a very nice American accent."

"Thanks..? How did you know that?"

"Oh, don't encourage him." Puck muttered, rolling his eyes; though with a teasing smile.

"I know many things about you, actually." Blue-eyes (as Blaine had started calling him) stated, turning slightly to jot a note down.

"Really?" Blaine asked, looking interested and yet skeptical.

"Yes. I'm very observant. Puck says you're an old friend and he has spent about eighty percent of his somewhat boring life span in the States, particularly Lima, Ohio. No offense." Puck waved his hand lightly, shrugging.

"I also know that you are here most likely to get somewhere with your musical talents, yet they don't seem to be going anywhere much otherwise you obviously wouldn't be inquiring about a flatmate now would you?"

"I-"

"And yet you are also a doctor, but yet you choose to not walk down that career path, probably because it was what your father wanted, so he doesn't approve of your interests and is why you are currently not living with him, yes?"

"He doesn't approve of a lot of things about me, actually." Blaine said dryly, frowning. Blue-eyes made a humming noise, slipping on a grey sweeping coat over the slim-cut two button jacket he was wearing.

"I have to go, be seeing you Noah."

"_Puck._"

"Hey-wait a second." Blaine interrupted.

"Problem?" He asked, pausing and looking back at Blaine after he put on a light blue scarf.

"We're going to look at a flat together yet I don't even know where we're meeting or your name." He smiled, opening the door to the lab.

"My name is Kurt Hummel and the address is two-two one B, Baker Street." With a wink and a slight wave from Puck Kurt slipped out of the room.

"Yeah." Puck said with a grin, while Blaine looked after him in wonderment.

"He's always like that."


End file.
